Doorsteps and Doorbells
by Cdnacho98
Summary: What if Baby Harry was gone by the time Aunt Petunia opened the door? The first in a possible collection of scenarios based on this idea. The thought popped into my head one day, and thought it would be funny. Harry Potter ALWAYS, so take no offense fellow Potterheads! Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter, or any characters/content that I use from it.
1. Package Thieves

**A/N Disclaimer: Okay, Harry Potter is my life, first of all. I am not trying to knock my all time favorite book. I was thinking about it, and thought this would be in good fun. I may add more scenarios based on this idea of Harry not making it to the Dursleys, but for now it's a standalone. Enjoy!**

**Doorsteps and Doorbells**

"Good luck, Harry," Dumbledore murmured to the small bundle on the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive.

With a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

The next morning, Mrs. Dursley opened the door of Number 4 to get the milk bottles. And screamed.

One of the bottles had cracked, and frothy white milk was running down the stone steps.

"I just cleaned the stairs yesterday," she muttered, scowling. With a sigh, she went inside to fetch her cleaning supplies, then came back to tend to the mess.

Upon her return, she realized what had caused the milk bottles to spill. Some well-meaning idiot had placed the bottles on a soft blue blanket that was now covering the stoop, not thinking that a blanket may not be the sturdiest surface for six glass bottles. Must be a new milkman, Mrs. Dursley decided. Muttering to herself about poorly trained workers, she swept the glass fragments into her dust pan and sopped up the spilled milk with a dish rag. She nudged the blanket gingerly with her toe. When no roaches or rats scurried out, she kicked the offensive item down the steps. With a satisfied huff, she marched inside to complain to Mr. Dursley all about her eventful morning.

* * *

Where was Harry, you may ask? Good question. Harry was long gone, snatched up by one of the many unsavory characters that inhabit the night hours. Nighttime is no time for a child to be outside unsupervised, as most people are aware. Or should be. Especially child professionals, such as headmasters responsible for the safety of hundreds of young children ten months a year. Needless to say, doorsteps after dark are no place for a baby, especially one who is destined to save the entire Wizarding world.

**Moral of the story:** Ring the damn doorbell.


	2. Are you Harry?

**A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any lines I used here.**

**Hope you like the newest one shot! I'd appreciate feedback!**

_Thump_.

"Get the post, will you, Popkin?" asked Petunia Dursley, stacking pancakes onto her son's plate.

"Mummmmm, do I have to?" whined Dudley, eyes glued to the television screen. "The Great Humberto's on!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Duddikins," she fussed. "You can get it after the telly runs the commercials, alright?"

Vernon Dursley snorted behind his newspaper. "Honestly, Petunia," he harrumphed, rustling the pages loudly. "You coddle the boy too much. Dudley!" he barked, causing his son to jump in alarm, overturning his cup. Mrs. Dursley shrieked as freshly squeezed orange juice formed a sticky puddle on the table, and rushed to clean it.

"Get the mail, Dudley," his father snapped, not looking up from the sports section. Dudley groaned, but he obediently stomped off to the doormat.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley heard the shuffling of many papers, than a shout of excitement."Mum, Dad!" Dudley called, "We got another one of those funny letters! Mr. H. Potter, Number 4, Privet Drive…" he ambled back into the kitchen, waving the aforementioned envelope, not noticing his mother's pale face.

Mr. Dursley looked irritated. "Darn postmen…" he muttered, "Don't know how to read a bloody name…"

"Are you sure you don't know them, Dad?" Dudley asked curiously. "Maybe we should see what it says for once." He eyed the envelope thoughtfully, then began to rip it open.

"NO!"

Dudley leapt about a foot in the air, and stared at his parents in shock. "It's just a stupid letter," he muttered resentfully. "Honestly…"

"Give it here," his father commanded. Sheepishly, he complied, and watched gloomily as Mr. Dursley tore the offensive letter into shreds. Mrs. Dursley wiped the juice stains even more vigorously, only relaxing when the envelope was safely in the waste bin.

The last scrap of paper fluttered onto the pile in the trash. In the same instant, the door burst open, suddenly and violently. Mrs. Dursley shrieked. Dudley gasped in horror.

A man was standing there. But this was no ordinary man. He looked too big to be allowed. The man was twice the size of a normal man, and nearly five times as wide. His face was covered in enormous bunches of bushy, wiry hair.

The giant strode confidently into the room. "Sorry 'bout that," he boomed, gesturing towards the mangled front door. "Though' it would be more dramatic tha' way."

"Dramatic?" Mr. Dursley roared, eyes popping. "What the devil are you on about, man? How dare you break into my home! I order you to leave!"

The giant waved a hand the size of a dustbin."Ah, shut up Dursley, yeh great prune," he said airily. "Jus' give me Harry, and I'll be on my way."

Vernon blinked. "Harry?" he said slowly.

The giant stared at him. "'Course! Why else did yeh think I was here?" He turned to Dudley, who backed away warily. "Yer a lot bigger than the las' time I saw yeh, Harry," he said, beaming.

"I-I'm not," Dudley stammered, "No, you don't-"

"Got summat for yeh," the giant interrupted, as though he hadn't heard. "Might've sat on it at some point, but it'll taste alrigh', I reckon."

As he spoke, he pulled a slightly flattened bakery box from one of the pockets of his enormous overcoat, and handed it to Dudley. Dudley grabbed it eagerly. He tore it open, and his eyes lit up. Inside, was a squat cake covered in chocolate frosting. Someone had written the words 'Happy Birthday Harry' in green icing.

"Made it myself," said the giant, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Don't touch it, son," Mr. Dursley said sharply, but Dudley ignored him, and gobbled the cake greedily. When he finished the cake, he grinned at the giant. "Got anymore?"

"'Fraid not," he said apologetically. "But maybe we can get summat on the way to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

The giant nodded."Sure!" Then he clapped a hand to his forehead. "Ruddy idiot I am," he muttered. "Not properly introducing meself...The name's Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts. But everyone jus' calls me by me surname."

"Hagrid," Dudley tried carefully. "So you said something about taking Harr-I mean me, to Hogwarts?"

Hagrid stared at him in surprise. "Yeh did just turn eleven, didn't yeh, Harry?"

Dudley considered. His eleventh birthday had passed only a month ago, so it wasn't technically a lie...He nodded quickly.

"Well, we gotta get yer learnin' started, don' we?"

"Learning?"

The giant shook his head. "Blimey Harry," he said reproachfully. "Though' you would be a bright kid. Eleven is when we start schoolin'. Fer magic."

"Magic?" Dudley perked up. "Like making things appear out of nowhere?"

"Sure," said Hagrid, eyeing him curiously. "Though I expect yeh won't be starting on that righ' away. More advanced, that kind of thing."

"I'm in." Dudley said quickly. "Let's go."

"Alrigh' then," said Hagrid, eyes twinkling. "Then let's head out. Lots ter do, you know."

"Dudley," Mr. Dursley hissed, over his Petunia's terrified whimpers, "What the devil are you doing?"

But Dudley was already following Hagrid out the door. Let _his_ _father_ fetch the post tomorrow, and see how it felt! He was rubbish at his school, and a giant who made chocolate cakes couldn't be too bad. He'd just have to get used to being called Harry...


End file.
